


autofocus

by tenebrism



Category: Infinite (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Photography, This Is STUPID, horrible decision-making skills, naked...... photography....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenebrism/pseuds/tenebrism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Woohyun runs his hand over the rumpled sheets and squints at Myungsoo, saying, “You’d tell me if we were actually filming homemade porn, right?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	autofocus

**Author's Note:**

> this was written very quickly and is rough and vague and lazy but... i figured i would post it anyway, in case someone might enjoy it despite... everything. 
> 
> my knowledge of photography is minimal, my knowledge of art is moderate but useless, but my knowledge of thirst is vast and extensive. please don't take me seriously.

He’s trying to avoid the word “artblock” because it sounds kind of pretentious. Then again, everything sounds pretentious when you’re studying art, which, in an academic context, lends itself to nothing more than trying to take all your pointless little thoughts and feelings and make them big and important and significant. It’s not Myungsoo’s fault, really, if it all feels like the end of the world.

“There’s no way you don’t have anything to submit for the exhibition,” Woohyun says. “You never put your damn camera down.”

He doesn’t have his camera now, but he doesn’t point that out. “It’s not that I don’t have anything,” he explains, slowly, “but I don’t want to… submit what I have, I guess.”

Woohyun quirks an eyebrow.

“It’s not important,” Myungsoo sighs, dropping his hands into his lap. “I get tired of showing people the same things. Especially when they don’t even…”

It’s not that no one _likes_ his photos so much as they’re underwhelmed, usually, by what they see as a lack of thought. Concept. Myungsoo is terrible at _concept_ , honestly. He spends a lot of time thinking about these things, but in the end it doesn’t amount to much. He likes to photograph what he sees. Whatever sentimental thoughts he attaches to each picture aren’t pre-planned concept but reflection, association. They’re supposed to be snapshots - captured moments - but, well. That’s nothing revolutionary.

Sometimes Myungsoo wants to say that nothing any of his fellow students create is. But artists don’t like to be told their work is - derivative, is the word - despite the fact that, you know, it’s pretty much impossible to do anything completely _new_ , at this point. Anyway. Most of them try harder to bullshit than Myungsoo does, at least, so he just looks lazy. Quaint.

Besides, sometimes it all feels too personal. He documents most of his life and displays it for criticism. So maybe he just wants to do something different, for once.

This is hard to explain.

“I have no idea,” he groans, resting his forehead on the table. Woohyun pats the back of his head.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Woohyun says.

Myungsoo looks up at him. “I’m this close to taking a bunch of _artistic nudes_ just to mess with everyone.”

Woohyun laughs. “How could they possibly complain.”

 

He only asks Woohyun because, one, he can’t think of any of his other friends that would willingly do it, and two, he doesn’t really know how to bring it up, anyway, and at least Woohyun had been there when he joked about it to begin with.

Woohyun is easy to convince, at least. What are friends for?

 

“Your shitty bedroom doesn’t exactly scream ‘classy’,” Woohyun says, grinning. He still looks relaxed, which is nice; if he’s nervous at all, Myungsoo can’t tell.

He’s also still dressed, so that probably helps.

Myungsoo frowns. “I don’t have a ton of options,” he says. “Your place isn’t any better.”

“Could’ve at least sprung for a hotel room,” Woohyun pouts. Myungsoo had almost considered it, but he also didn’t want to figure out how to explain all the camera equipment and shit… Well, his lighting setup is minimal, rigged together because natural light would be nice but he can’t exactly leave the window open with Woohyun - naked - in his bed - but anyway, it’s still -

there’s really no way to frame this so it doesn’t look awful.

Myungsoo hadn’t bothered to make his bed. Woohyun runs his hand over the rumpled sheets and squints at Myungsoo, saying, “You’d tell me if we were actually filming homemade porn, right?”

Myungsoo laughs.

He doesn’t want to watch Woohyun strip, so he tells him to do it while he’s getting everything set up, fixing the lights, checking his camera settings. Then Woohyun is sitting on the bed in his underwear, and Myungsoo just kind of looks at him for a second. “You don’t have to, you know - if you don’t want to - we can just cover you up?”

Woohyun flops backwards, laughing, running his thumbs under the elastic waistband. “No way. I gotta give the people what they want.”

“I don’t think the people want to see your dick,” Myungsoo says, shrugging. Woohyun grins at him for a moment before he tugs his underwear down his legs.

 

Easy enough.

 

Myungsoo fidgets, glancing at his camera. He isn’t that comfortable shooting with models to begin with, and this -

Woohyun is waiting for him to say something. “What do you want me to do?”

“I, uh.” Myungsoo looks at him. “I’m not really good at, you know, the posing and stuff. Just… do what feels natural, I guess.”

“Natural?” He raises an eyebrow, then grins. “How’re you gonna convince anyone you had any idea what you were doing when you took these-”

“Maybe I’m just not inspired,” Myungsoo says flatly, though he can’t stop the corners of his lips from quirking up. “Maybe my model needs to step his game up.”

Woohyun fixes his lips in a pout. “ _Not inspired_ , huh. I’ll inspire your-” He grumbles unintelligibly, moving around on the bed until he’s tangled in the sheets. He runs a hand through his neat hair. “Alright, don’t worry about it. I know this must be overwhelming for you.”

Woohyun smirking is annoying at the best of times. Now, it’s just - “Ah, shut up.” Myungsoo raises his camera for a test shot, but when he looks at the preview, it doesn’t look like he caught Woohyun off guard at all. The shitty smirk is still there; he’s looking right into the camera.

Myungsoo sighs. “Let’s… get started then.”

See, part of the reason Myungsoo was okay with Woohyun being his model is that Myungsoo is used to him. His weird, inappropriate flirting, his teasing, all of that - it’s normal and barely registers, at this point. What Myungsoo was not counting on was Woohyun’s superhuman ability to take things very seriously when he’s decided they’re worth it. Apparently, Woohyun decided not to half-ass this modeling thing, because - well.

Myungsoo doesn’t know what he was expecting. He’s supposed to be in charge of this trainwreck, but he’s pretty much just winging it, so that leaves Woohyun with creative control.

Never, in any situation, has putting Woohyun in control been a good idea.

He’s good at this, is the main problem. For a minute, he clutches the sheets at his waist, half-covering him, but his gaze toward the camera doesn’t falter. It’s part bedroom eyes and part confrontation. Myungsoo moves closer to get a different angle; Woohyun drops his head to the side and closes his eyes. When he shifts around, the sheet falls away, but Woohyun doesn’t seem remotely put off by it.

Myungsoo is grateful, for a moment, that he has the camera to separate him from Woohyun’s eyes, from _Woohyun_.

He’d convinced himself this would be fine. Woohyun hadn’t really questioned it much to begin with; Myungsoo had sort of been joking, until he wasn’t. Anyway. It’s not like he’s never done anything like this before. He’s worked with nude models in figure drawing class, and it hadn’t been a problem - he hadn’t anticipated how different this would be.

The setting changes a lot, to begin with. In the studio, illuminated by bright lights, taken out of any real-world context, a body is just a body. This is Myungsoo’s bedroom - his bed, his sheets - and Woohyun doesn’t belong there, but it’s not hard for his brain to provide suggestion, connotation.

Besides that, he _knows_ Woohyun. All his stupid habits, his voice, his smile - Myungsoo knows the trick is to separate the thing he’s photographing from its meaning, at least temporarily, but it’s impossible to see Woohyun’s body as a collection of planes for light to bounce off of.

This is -

he’s an artist, okay, maybe a terrible one, but he should be able to detach. He’s perfectly fine. He doesn’t even think of Woohyun that way; or, he hasn’t before, not in any seriousness, and now is not the time for that to change.

Woohyun leans back, stretching his arms behind him. He clenches the sheets in his hands, and the light emphasizes the definition of his arms. Myungsoo swallows, walks closer. He clicks the shutter.

Woohyun tilts his head back, eyes closed. Myungsoo takes the picture. Woohyun cracks for the first time, turning to look at him. “Good?” He’s smiling, but he sounds - unsure, almost.

“Yeah, it’s - you’re-” Myungsoo bites his lip, nods. “You’re doing - fine. Yeah.”

Woohyun laughs. “Are you-”

“I’m great,” he says, too quickly.

Woohyun looks at him for a second too long. Defensively, Myungsoo lifts the camera between them. Like if he has a lens between them, he won’t feel so… exposed? That doesn’t make sense; at least he’s still got his clothes on.

Woohyun sticks his tongue out. “Back to business, I guess.”

 _Business_. Sure. Myungsoo questions the professionalism in all the decisions that led him here. Woohyun lounges obscenely, one of his hands running up his chest to his shoulder, and Myungsoo follows that path through the viewfinder until he remembers that he’s supposed to be taking photos here. The dip behind Woohyun’s collarbone is shadowed, deep. Pretty, Myungsoo thinks.

From an aesthetic standpoint.

The stack of pillows on Myungsoo’s bed is sort of meager, but Woohyun twists at the waist and leans on them, resting on his elbow like a proper reclining Venus or some shit. Myungsoo had been hoping that somehow he could avoid making this whole photoshoot overtly erotic, but he hadn’t really tried to avoid it, either, and therefore had trapped himself into the inevitable.

Maybe if he hadn’t asked Woohyun. Maybe if he’d done this literally anywhere else. Maybe if he’d made, like, one good decision about this entire situation.

He probably should have anticipated this.

He can feel heat rising in his neck, so he tries to keep his face hidden. He doesn’t have to speak to make it obvious that he’s having some problems. At this point, he isn’t sure if Woohyun is just way too into this or if he’s actively fucking with him.

One of Woohyun’s hands slides to the inside of his thigh.

Myungsoo starts coughing involuntarily. He takes the opportunity he’s given and sets the camera on his nightstand. “I need, um.” Inhale, exhale. “Sorry, I’m - gonna get something to - I’ll be right back.”

 

Myungsoo pours himself a glass of water, drains it, and pours another one. He tells himself to chill out. He has no reason to be so worked up.

He’s in the kitchen for a minute before Woohyun shuffles in after him. He’s got Myungsoo’s blanket wrapped around his whole body, clutching it together in front of his chest. He looks so small.

“Everything okay?”

“Mm.” Myungsoo nods, picking his glass up. “I was just thirsty.”

Woohyun stares at him for a second, then laughs.

Myungsoo feels his face heating up. He’s definitely blushing now. “No, I meant-”

“I know,” Woohyun says, still laughing. “I know, it’s just - word choice.”

Myungsoo sighs and shakes his head. Woohyun walks up next to him, sticks a hand out of his blanket cocoon and takes the glass from Myungsoo’s hand. Myungsoo frowns at him as he drinks the rest of it.

“Me too,” Woohyun says. “It’s hot in there.”

Silence. This is stupid. Myungsoo can’t tell if Woohyun is doing anything on purpose anymore. He generally assumes he is, but right now Myungsoo is in a fragile state.

 

He doesn’t know what to say, really.

He heads back to his room.

 

He should call this off now. It’s clearly not going to work as a project; it was misguided from the start, so there’s really no point to continuing. But Woohyun follows him, Woohyun sits on his bed and slowly unfolds from the blanket, relaxing, and Myungsoo - Myungsoo doesn’t really want to stop yet.

Myungsoo retrieves his camera, stands a bit back from the foot of his bed. “Say cheese,” he says.

Woohyun grins. Then he fixes his mouth, tilts his chin up, and stares into the camera, defiant. Myungsoo’s heart thuds in his chest.

“I think you should get closer,” Woohyun says after a minute.

Myungsoo is still for a moment. Then he steps around the corner of his bed. Closer. “Seriously,” Woohyun says, reaching out. His fingers barely touch Myungsoo’s wrist. “You’re gonna miss all the good stuff.”

“What,” Myungsoo manages to say, and he takes a step, then another, and Woohyun gently pries the camera from his hands. Myungsoo lets go and Woohyun puts it on the nightstand.

“You need to relax,” Woohyun says. He isn’t touching him anymore, but Myungsoo’s hands feel hot where Woohyun’s had been. He doesn’t get it. It’s not like he’s never found Woohyun attractive, but he knows it’s never been like _this_ , so - why now? Woohyun tugs the hem of his shirt, and Myungsoo sits down, jelly-legged.

Woohyun rests his hand flat between Myungsoo’s shoulders. Myungsoo groans. “It’s fine. It’s just - weirder than I expected.”

“Is it?” Woohyun leans closer. When Myungsoo turns his head, their faces are inches apart.

“You’re awful,” Myungsoo says. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“What?” Woohyun’s look of confusion is so obviously phony it answers all of Myungsoo’s questions for him.

Myungsoo frowns at him.

Woohyun makes a face. “Maybe a little.” He laughs, quiet, and averts his eyes.

Myungsoo jabs him in the side.

“Ah, ah, okay. Sorry.” Woohyun is so close to him. Myungsoo is trying not to think about it but Woohyun is so _close_ and he’s totally _naked_ , which is - weird, it’s definitely weird. When Woohyun looks back at him, Myungsoo can see it again, his confidence wavering. If he’s pulling this shit on purpose, if he’s looking at Myungsoo like this, that must mean he -

“Do you, um.” Woohyun’s voice is quiet. It’s weird. “Do you want-”

Myungsoo stops chewing his lip. “I - maybe a little.”

Woohyun laughs, a sudden release of breath. “Okay,” he says, and kisses him, softly.

Myungsoo’s definitely never thought about kissing Woohyun, but if he had, he wouldn’t have expected it to be like this. Woohyun kisses him like he’s worried he’ll scare Myungsoo off, like he’s not sure this is really happening, and Myungsoo wonders if he’s wanted this. How long he’s wanted it. Maybe that’s what does it, in the end.

Myungsoo leans into him, eager, licking his mouth open, and Woohyun manages half of a surprised laugh and lifts his hand to Myungsoo’s neck.

It makes more sense, after that. Woohyun is greedy, pushy, but Myungsoo has been told he has an obsessive personality. Between the two of them, Myungsoo doesn’t really have time to think. He doesn’t want to think; he wants to learn the way Woohyun’s skin feels under his hands. His skin - he has _so much_ skin, and it’s all - Myungsoo figures it must feel weird, up against Myungsoo’s clothes. He doesn’t want to pull away long enough to take them off.

Woohyun’s hands are under his shirt; they’re warm, Myungsoo is warm, the lights are still on them and it’s too, too hot but he really doesn’t care.

He wants to be hesitant - he means to be, keeps catching himself faltering, but the moment brings him back. He wants to touch _everywhere_ -

If Woohyun is kind of shameless, he can be, too.

When Woohyun pushes him onto his back, crawls between his legs and looks up at him, resting his cheek for a second on his stomach, Myungsoo stops himself from saying _this is a good angle_ , but only barely.

 

Myungsoo is acutely aware of how hot it is, after. It clings to his skin.

Woohyun has his eyes closed. His hair is everywhere, his mouth - Myungsoo should stop _looking_ \- there’s a pretty bruised place on his collarbone. Woohyun gives him a lazy smile, opening his eyes slowly. Myungsoo is a little overwhelmed. This is new, but probably not surprising (Myungsoo can catalog reasons: “obsessive personality,” love of physical affection, and Woohyun, despite almost everything).

He picks up his camera.

“Honestly,” Woohyun groans, leaning away.

“It’s not for-” Myungsoo bites his lip. “I’m not gonna show anyone.”

Woohyun sighs, but the corner of his mouth twitches; it’s way too late for him to pretend he doesn’t like the attention. Myungsoo takes in for a moment the play of light and shadow on Woohyun’s skin, the way he’s quiet and still - sleepy and content. The shutter closes.


End file.
